


Her Wicked Ways

by Twisted_Slinky



Category: Supernatural, Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Mind Control, Non Consensual, Oral Sex, Pre Season/Series, Sex Toys, Threesome, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:44:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Slinky/pseuds/Twisted_Slinky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-series Supernatural/The Vampire Diaries. In hiding, frustrated, and in the mood for entertainment, Katherine knows exactly what she wants to do to the young hunter when she stumbles upon him. There are, after all, so many fun ways for a wicked vampire to break a hunter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Wicked Ways

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Perverse Bang and to fill the "Bloodplay" square in my Kink Bingo. That should be a big clue that you need to heed the warning and the rating in this story. I don't often write sex and torture together, but here you go. Most of the story is pre-series for both series, but the beginning prologue is set during "Live Free or Twihard" from SPN S6.

NOW

* * *

Soft fingers and sharp nails. Little kissing and deep bites. That constant, wicked smile.

He'd seen it all before, of course. In Hell, those days he'd spent with her had played out once. Dean had thought, at the time, that it was a scenario from a particularly imaginative demon. It had made Alastair laugh; Dean had made Alastair laugh fairly often, but the torture master had found his student-in-the-making's reaction to _her_ particularly amusing.

Dean understood why now. Those were memories. Dean's own. It must have been funny to have a soul who didn't remember what was real and what wasn't.

Somehow, over the years, over all the horrible things he'd done in Hell and top-side, he'd managed to forget that little passion play put to life on a stage of fire and brimstone.

Dean wished he could forget it again, but he couldn't. Apparently, when a human became a vampire, any species of vampire, those moments that were compelled away all came rushing back.

Writhing in hunger pains, thirsty for blood, feeling the row of fangs rip his gums to ribbons, Dean stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, waiting to make a break for it out the window. To see the rest of the pretend family he'd tried to make for himself. To have a final moment of normal before he succumbed to being a monster, like her.

He could hear Sam's too-steady heartbeat in the other room. He could hear a car backfire a mile away. Everything was loud, but nothing was as loud as the memory of her.

" _Dean, stay alive_ ," she asked him, once upon a time, with that wicked smile on her face.

Those memories…they were all real. They were ones she'd taken from him, back when he was a bit younger, a bit less broken. Or so he'd thought. He felt himself getting hard, dick straining against the stiff denim holding it down, and he hated himself just a little more, because that? He couldn't blame that on being a monster. That was all a fucked-up Dean Winchester's problem.

* * *

THEN

* * *

2002

* * *

She wanted his blood in her fingernails, between her teeth, smeared over her lips. She wanted _him._

Katherine had spent centuries on the run, wary of danger's approach. The constant vigilance, the paranoia, the _motion_ ; it was usually enough to stave off boredom. And if that didn't work, then stealing, killing…cheap thrills seemed to hit the right spot. But every once in a great while, the frustrations of her undead life became too much. Anger and cruelty and loneliness would build up inside her, creating an unbearable hunger to inflict her own pain onto another. Always, she would find some poor, beautiful soul to rip apart. A special meal. Something different from the norm; something exciting.

A hunter would do nicely.

"You're all work, Dean." She sighed, bored, but her voice was lost in the distance.

Katherine stared up at the sky. It was a dull, clear gray with coral hues creeping in from the horizon and warning of a coming sunrise. Not that she had to heed it. Rolling off her back and onto her side, she propped her head onto her chin, rich brunette waves spilling out around her fitted, low-cut jacket. If she'd been human, keeping herself from sliding off the steep aluminum roof of the farmhouse would have been more difficult and spotting her prey in the dark shadows of the trees surrounding the house would have been near impossible.

For Katherine, though, it was easy.

She grinned when she noticed him moving into the clearing, a shovel in one hand, a duffel bag over the other shoulder. There was a slight limp to his bow-legged walk. The ghost must have not went down easy. Katherine wouldn't know about that part; to say the least, spirits weren't her favorite people ever, so she'd kept back from the hunter's battle, watching the pursuit itself instead.

Over the scent of leather and sweat that so easily identified him was the faint odor of decay, earth, and gasoline. For hours there had been smoke rising out of the spruces, and she'd feared the locals might come investigate. Try and take her to-be toy away. But the house was just far enough out of town for no one to notice a little fire at an old family cemetery. He knew how to do his job well.

They were alone.

Katherine chewed her bottom lip, watching him pause at his black beauty. He tossed his things into the trunk, then bend over it, head propped onto his hands as if in prayer. It took her a moment to realize the slight glow she saw was from a cellphone against his ear.

No one answered, if the stream of curses out of his mouth was any indication. There was the sound of a beep, and Dean took a breath, plastering a fake smile on his face, as if there were anyone in the woods to see it.

"Hey, Sammy, it's just me. No emergency or anything. Just called to say happy birthday. Don't do anything I wouldn't do, kid. And quit studying so hard, geek boy." He ended the call, staring at something in the dark before shaking his head. "Not like you'd pick up anyway," he muttered, tossing it back into the car. "Screw you, Sammy. And screw you, too, Dad."

Still angry. He had been since the moment he drove into town, and she'd spotted him. It was showing in every tight smile, every glance at the empty passenger's seat.

Katherine liked that, but she could already tell it was a cover. She knew anger, and that wasn't what was really hiding behind those pretty green eyes. He was sad, aching, lonely. Poor boy. The thought made her grin widen.

Still, she hesitated.

This wasn't her wisest decision, she knew. It could mean her head if she didn't practice just a touch of restraint. But the risks made it that much more exciting. If she had to, she could wait until he went back to his motel room. She could follow him another day; he'd make the right move, _his_ wrong move, eventually.

And it would be those emotions below the surface that gave her the opening…

"Come on, Dean," she asked, pouting playfully. "For me?"

He didn't hear her. She watched as he opened his driver's side door, tossing the phone inside with practiced force.

"I hope you're enjoying your friggin' life, Sammy."

And then, though she wasn't expecting it, it happened. He reached up to the amulet around his neck, yanking it off from around his head and throwing it in after the phone. She heard it bounce off the side glass.

Katherine was on the ground before the chunk of metal ever hit the leather seat.

He blinked once, almost dazed by the sudden appearance of a woman beside him. On instinct, his hand was already at the small of his back, pulling free a weapon.

Katherine slapped it down before he ever had a chance, tossing him against the back driver's side door hard enough to bust out the window against his stomach.

" _Christ,_ " he managed.

It was all she allowed before she ripped the collar of his shirt, digging her teeth into the nape of his neck. He cried out, his hard body fighting against her, but she stayed put, drinking deep. Warmth flooded her mouth, coating her tongue in red, and she groaned as she pulled herself off him, unsatisfied with the meager meal.

Restraint, she reminded herself, if she wanted this one to last.

Dean was limp between her body and the car. She wrapped her fingers around his neck, lolling his head back onto her shoulder and laughing lightly at his slack body.

Eyes closed, lips parted, he looked innocent. Too young to be a hunter. Almost too pretty to be a boy. She couldn't help but press a chaste, promising kiss onto the corner of his mouth.

"Your daddy's not going to like what I do to you," she whispered, tightening her hold on him. He let out a soft groan, and she took it as an invitation. "Let's have some fun, shall we?"

* * *

It was clean inside the old farmhouse, pictures on the walls spanning generations and giving no indication that the estate had been abandoned since its owner's demise. Not that anyone could claim it, since every banker, city worker, and potential buyer to set foot on the property had been injured by the angry spirit within. Of course, Katherine didn't care about that story.

What she did care about was the last room downstairs, prepared for a guest the owner had never received. It held a neatly made, abet dusty, twin-sized bed with a heavy iron frame. And her new friend, Dean.

Katherine stepped into the room, knowing the glow of the camping lanterns wouldn't announce her presence until she was ready.

Lashes fluttered as he struggled to wake, twisting in his sleep, groaning when he moved the wrong way and pulled at the bite wound on his neck. His unmoving hands, bound above his head, seemed to pull him to consciousness quickly enough, and he went still, assessing the situation. The ropes were his, ones she'd taken from the trunk of his car. They were at his feet as well.

Then, of course, he must have noticed that he'd been stripped of his jacket and torn shirt. His bare, bruised chest was covered in a slick blanket of sweat. Somehow that seemed to offend him more than any injury.

" _Son of a bitch."_

Katherine smirked. "Now, that's no way to talk about your mother."

She stepped forward, hand still on the door frame, letting her nails rip at the paint there before she moved on. Her heels tapped against the hard wood as she approached the light. His eyes followed the noise, tracking her with more alertness than his current lack of blood should have allowed.

"And who the hell are you supposed to be?"

"Such a way with words," she teased, rolling her eyes. She eased down onto the side of the mattress, sliding against his denim-clad hip as she relaxed back onto one arm. "I'm Katherine," she said, smiling politely. "And you're Dean Winchester."

He hesitated, just long enough for her to notice, before he shot her a shit-eating grin of his own. "Lady, I don't think we know each other. I have a good memory when it comes to crazed psycho-bitches."

Katherine raised a brow. "Actually, we don't. I do, however, know of Daddy Winchester."

Dean's face hardened. "If you're planning to use me to get to him, you're shit out of luck."

"Oh, sweetheart, I already have exactly what I want."

"What's that?"

Katherine reached out, running her fingertips over his jaw line. They trailed south, scratching a fine line down his chest. Tiny beads of blood sprouted up, and she leaned in close, running her tongue over the largest drop. She could hear his heart racing beneath the skin.

"Dinner and a show," she replied.

Without another word, she threw her leg over him, holding herself up over his body on all fours. He stared at her, nostrils flared, eyes wide with panic. "Then why don't you get on with it, bitch?" he growled.

She could smell the fear on him, see his muscles twitching as he tried to loosen the knots holding him in place. But all he _let_ her see was cocky anger in his steady glare. It didn't fool her.

"You're forgetting the 'show' part. Frankly, Dean, for a hunter, you were a bit too easy to catch, and a girl needs her entertainment. As soon as you ditched the vervain-laced amulet…well, sweetheart, the only _bitch_ in this room is you. And you're mine."

She caught the confusion crossing his face and sneered down at him. "Oh, don't tell me you didn't even know what your protection charm could work against? How, sweet. Does this mean I'm your first vampire?"

"And here I was just going to write you off as a blood-sucking slut who was into bondage," Dean replied.

Katherine pushed herself up until she was sitting on his thighs, forcing him to lift his head to follow her movement. She tugged at his belt until it gave. "I do enjoy tying boys up."

His eyes widened in surprise. "The fuck are you doing?"

"Do I need to spell it out to you?"

She tugged down his zipper and slipped her small hand past the denim. She found him, still limp but hot to the touch, and grinned. He was a nice size, a little above average in the length department and a good width for her. She snorted at the assessment.

"Guess you're not overcompensating with that massive black boat out front after all."

"Get the hell off me. _Now."_

Katherine bit her bottom lip, feigning innocence. "That's not very nice of you, Dean. It's enough to make a girl feel unwanted."

She grabbed hold of his hips, lifting them up off the mattress with ease as she rolled his jeans and boxers down a few inches. He bucked in response, panicking, more so when she didn't so much as budge an inch. She took his cock in her hand, squeezing gently and letting her nails prick at the sensitive skin. He froze.

His words came out breathy, stilted. "This really how you get your kicks, huh? Can't get a guy the old fashion way? Or…Or you…Shit."

"What a wordsmith." She stroked him, letting her thumb run up the veiny underside of his cock until his voice broke. "That's a good boy," she whispered.

She could feel the blood rushing down to meet her palm. He was getting hard, whether he wanted to or not, and she couldn't help but grin in response. Her back curled as she leaned forward, wrapping her lips around the tip of his dick and suckling gently, and she could taste his salty pre-cum rising to surface. Her tongue circle him once, savoring it, before she lifted back up, pressing her clothed body against his skin.

Katherine crawled up him, pushing down his cock with a twist of her pelvis. "So, Dean," she said, holding herself up above him once more, "where's Daddy Winchester at? He staying nearby or are you all alone?"

"Fuck off, bitch," he breathed.

His cheeks were flushed red in shame. She squeezed his chin, forcing his eyes to lock onto hers. " _Answer the question_ ," she demanded.

"He's two states away finishing up another hunt. Doesn't expect me to even call until tomorrow." He blinked, confused by his own reply. "Why did…?"

" _What about the rest of your family? Are there any other hunters who might come to save their pretty boy?"_ she asked.

"No. My brother, Sam, is in college, and none of the other hunters we work with even know I took this job." Dean threw his head back against the pillow, frustrated. "How the hell are you doing that?" he snapped.

"It's one of the perks of being what I am." Katherine grinned, tossing her long hair over one shoulder to get it out his way. "See, Dean, I don't have to rely on using your dick to make you behave. I have other ways. And I can make you tell me your deepest, darkest secrets if I want." She cocked her head, curious. "Now, I wonder, which would you prefer? Telling me all about your beloved hunting family or letting me do whatever I want to you?"

"Screw you," Dean hissed. "If you want to know, you'll ask anyway."

She nodded in agreement. "Sure. But, here's the thing. If I have you to distract me for a few days, I'll probably get bored of the idea and leave them be. But if you don't keep me entertained…Well, I bet you could give me names and addresses enough to fill a book, couldn't you? I'm sure one of your hunter friends would be just as fun to play with…Maybe even that annoying little brother of yours who wouldn't answer your phone call?"

" _Don't."_ Dean pushed himself up until his face was inches from hers. "Don't you even _think_ of touching him."

Katherine didn't move, watching him carefully. Her voice was softer when it returned. "So loyal. I knew two brothers once who were just like that. Fierce. Protective." She leaned down, close to his ear. "And I managed to tear them apart. They _hated_ each other by the time I finished with them."

She laughed at Dean's angry frown, sobering again when she saw a familiar glimmer in his eye. Just the tiniest flicker of hope. "I know your type, Dean. You're the soldier and the lamb. You're thinking, right now, that if you can find a way to kill yourself, I'll never be able to ask you those questions. You'll never have to betray your family. You're thinking you can still win this…"

She tightened her grip on his face, biting down on her own tongue and leaning in to press her lips against his. She forced him open, moaning against him as she let her blood drip down into his mouth. He began to tug at his arms again, trying to shake her off, but she continued the kiss until he swallowed.

Katherine pulled up, her lips slick and crimson. "Go ahead, Dean. Bite off your own tongue, pull at your bindings until they cut your wrists. Piss me off enough to rip out your throat…That taste? That was my blood. Inside you. If you die with it in you, you'll become like me. A monster. It's how my species breeds." She frowned, playfully, tapping a finger against her chin. "How ever will you protect your family if you're the one trying to eat them?"

His body relaxed against her, in defeat. She felt the heat pooling in her stomach at the sight of him, looking away, still as the dead. He could be broken. She'd known as much before she ever captured him. But it was more than that, a truth she'd come to recognize in some people. Deep down, he _wanted_ to be broken. The strong and weary always did. They needed it. They needed a way to lose control, to let go of the wheel.

And it turned her on, the idea that she might be the one to shatter the hunter.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice already hoarse.

Katherine didn't bother to reply. Instead she unzipped her jacket, tossing it off. Her movements were dizzying as she stripped off the blouse beneath, her tight pants, all before her shoes had a chance to hit the floor. She pressed her slick heat against him, feeling his cock twitch in response, and slipped a hand between their bodies, pumping him again until she could slide down onto him.

He hissed out a breath as she squeezed her muscles around him.

"I want to watch you break," she said, running her hands up over her stomach to cup her breasts. She closed her eyes, throwing her head back as she began to ride him, rolling her hips against him as she lifted herself up.

She was surprised when she felt him bucking, meeting her movements, and she grinned. Good, then. He understood. Her rhythm quickened, faster than she knew he'd ever felt.

"Don't you dare come first, or I'll bend your little brother over that car of yours and slip your gun inside him."

He let out a broken moan, and she laughed. She could still feel the heat of his blood inside her, running through her veins, but it wasn't enough to satisfy. She knew exactly what she needed and leaned down onto his body, sliding against his stomach as she continued to ride him.

Her fangs slid out, and he watched her, transfixed for the moment by the sight of her darkened eyes and vicious mouth. His wound was already mostly healed, thanks to her blood, but she ripped it open anew.

"No," he whispered, desperate, but she sucked harder.

He spilled into her mouth and then spilled into her cunt, his back arching off the bed with the orgasm. Katherine pulled free from his neck, crying out as her own rippled over her, heat washing over her so intensely that she almost felt alive again.

She let out a content groan, collapsing against his chest. "Good boy."

* * *

He was dead the moment she saw him:

The '67 Impala had rolled down mainstreet like a predator on the prowl, and it shouldn't have been an unusual sight. Certainly not enough to catch her attention, but it had. Katherine had sat down the boots she'd planned on compelling from her tasty new "friend" at the boutique shop, the hairs on her neck rising as she stared out the store's front window.

Katherine prided herself on being a woman with a plan, always a step ahead of her enemy. Always with a card up her sleeve.

But this? This wasn't in her plans, and instinct told her that whoever was in the car was a danger. It was a longshot, of course, that it would just happen to be the hunter she'd heard so much about recently, especially from her favorite witches, _especially_ the ones who dabbled in the darker magics. John Winchester had made quite the name for himself amongst the supernaturals she kept in contact with. He was becoming a regular boogieman, but Katherine had never had the pleasure herself, though she'd come close…And she wasn't sure why he was of such interest. But what she did know was that he had a nice, rare car. Just like the one outside.

Instinct told her to run or kill. Those were really the only options.

She'd shifted from fearful to curious in a second's span when the car parked in front of the library. Out stepped a man in his early twenties, far too young to be John, but there was an air about him…She'd ran into her fair share of these type of hunters over the centuries. Some better than others. Killed a few, too. So, she knew this man was one of them, even if she hadn't spotted the protection amulet around his neck. There was something in the way they looked out at the world that gave them away.

It didn't take long for her to figure out who he was. One of the famous John Winchester's hunter sons.

Leaving right then would have been easy. He wasn't here for her; she'd cleaned up after herself nicely, and there was a haunting on the edge of town. He hadn't spotted her yet. It wasn't as if she was attached to this place. It was just a quaint refuge until she decided to go check on one of her favorites again, see what trouble Stefan was getting himself into this decade.

But, she didn't run.

Logically, she knew it wasn't a good idea, hunting the boy. If she killed him and John Winchester found out…Well, then she'd have to hunt and kill him as well, since, from what she'd heard, he was an obsessive bastard when it came to revenge.

Still, she'd hid from Klaus this long, and there was something about this challenge that called to her…She could feel it, darkness building inside of her. Leaving her frustrated and starving and anxious, all at once. She needed to let her hair down, have a bit of fun, or she'd end up slaughtering a department store full of people just for a bit of release.

He was dead the moment she saw him, but he was still breathing.

* * *

Katherine considered the consequences of keeping the man laying beside her for a while longer. They were the same, really, as they'd been two days ago, when she'd first saw him. The only difference was that she now knew for certain that she had the extra time. There was no one coming to save him.

It would be sad if she actually cared.

Katherine sighed, considering what game she wanted to play next. Dean barely stirred, his brow wrinkling in uneasiness. Or in pain. As the morning light filtered in through the window, she could see the bruises she'd left behind on his neck, his jaw, his hips. The few drops of blood she'd given him must have already been wearing off since he'd had to replenish so much of his own…not that he needed to know that.

"Wake up," she whispered.

She reached out, slitting her thumb with the nail of her index finger and pressing it against his lips. He opened his mouth slightly, and she smeared the blood over his teeth until he smacked his lips, swallowing a few more drops. The finger-shaped bruises on his cheeks began to heal.

He muttered something in his sleep, rolling his head away from her. Katherine reached up, pulling at the knots around his wrists until they came loose, freeing him.

She'd found him enjoyable the night before, but she wasn't entirely satisfied. He hadn't broken, not yet. Despite her teases, despite his own traitorous cock. But she knew exactly what would tear at a man like him.

"Dean," she whispered, bending down to untie his feet. The ropes fell away.

His eyes flickered open, their shade of green brighter in the yellow morning light. She locked on to them.

" _I'm just a girl you picked up last night at the bar. We had a fun time together, and you want to spend today with me. You'll do anything I want, and you'll do it happily. Then, when the sun goes down, the compulsion with break. You're going to remember what you did today. Every minute of it."_

When her voice stopped, he reached up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He rolled over onto his side, then gave her a lazy, tired grin. "Mornin', beautiful."

Katherine smiled back, stretching out against the mattress. She purred against the pillow. "I don't know about you, handsome, but I'm sore in all the right places."

* * *

They were beautiful. It wasn't just her pride that led her to that conclusion, either. She'd seen in on the faces of men, of women, of couples, when their eyes had fallen on her and her new toy. Katherine had grown use to the envy and lust humans sometimes felt toward her, and she knew it wasn't just that she had an attractive form. No, Helen of Troy was a dime a dozen in this age of cosmetics, but confidence, danger, coldness…It attracted them, like moths to a flame. They sought their deaths without ever realizing it.

More so when she had an equally lovely man at her side. And, Dean, hunter or not, was pretty.

She held him, just above the elbow, leaning into his body as they walked down the sidewalk, appearing to be nothing more than a couple out for a stroll. The bright spring day was close to perfect, but she'd seen so many she'd forgotten how to cherish them. Still, something about the white smile on Dean's face as he glanced down made her suddenly reminiscent of sunny days playing games with her favorite boys, of feeling their arms around her, of hearing her own teasing laughter blend with theirs, a far more genuine sound.

Dean's laugh sounded just the same. And Katherine hated him for it.

That's not what this venture out into the town was supposed to be about. She wasn't supposed to be reliving moments from a past she'd never get back. She wasn't supposed to find herself enjoying her day with a human. This was supposed to be about getting out her frustrations, purging herself of her bloodlust. About breaking this man. But her own game would be turning on her soon if she didn't move on, past the foreplay.

She turned from him, spotting the boutique, or, more specifically, the shop-girl who'd sold her a pair of boots. The woman was close to thirty, her blond hair from a bottle and cropped short. She was round cheeked, curved…Attractive, in an overly average way, and not at all interesting. Her name tag said Shelley.

Katherine frowned but then a raised a narrow brow when she saw the girl move.

She would have made a boring meal, barely worth the time to suck her dry, but when "Shelley" looked out the glass door, spotting Dean, Katherine could see the lust in her eyes, in the way her lips parted with a shallow breath, the way her thighs subconsciously pressed tighter together.

Katherine laughed, and the woman noticed, blushing and looking back at the stack of jeans she was refolding.

"Hope you're not laughing at me," Dean said, smiling. "Could bruise a guy's ego."

"Not you," she assured. She chewed at her bottom lip in thought before pulling him down, her mouth closer to his ear. "I want to play a new game," she whispered.

"Anything you want," he promised.

* * *

Katherine didn't have to compel Shelley. The woman brought the couple back to her house of her own free will. Sometimes, Katherine truly loved this century.

The vampire could smell the arousal on the woman before they even reached the front door, and she found it an amusing sign of desperation. Shelley was so eager to be near something beautiful, something hard and hot, that she didn't question Katherine's hesitation on the porch, muttering a breathy invitation, "come in," while her eyes stayed glued to Dean.

Katherine caught the woman in a soft, almost chaste kiss, just lingering long enough for Dean to watch. Then the vampire steered them both to a floral sofa in the front room, unbuttoning Shelley's blouse before she circled behind her, tugging her own jeans off as she moved.

Katherine's bone lace corset and panties were stark against her olive skin, and she could smell Dean's musky head rising to attention, just from one glimpse.

"God, this is hot," Shelley breathed.

Katherine rolled her eyes at her, growing bored. "Take off your panties," she ordered. Then she shot a look at Dean. "Get on your knees."

He dropped down without thought, staring up at her for instruction. It was a beautiful pose for him. Katherine could get used to it, but, first, she had to finish her lesson.

The vampire eased herself down onto the sofa, pulling the woman with her until Katherine was pressed between Shelley's back and the cushions, the woman's wide hips spreading Katherine's legs and her shoulder blades plucking the vampire's hard nipples. For a human, it might have been uncomfortable, but she only reached around either side of the woman, lifting Shelley's legs until they were on top of her own, spreading them even wider as she bucked her hips out, forcing the woman to move as well.

Katherine leaned Shelley's head back onto her shoulder, kissing her neck before smiling down at Dean. The hunter had realized his role, shifting forward until he was sitting between their legs, both hands spread against Shelley's thighs as he pushed her skirt up to her waist.

"Eat her out, Dean," Katherine said, in a soft, husky voice, trailing her fingers down the woman's stomach and pushing in tenderly, to get a better look at him. "We're going to make her scream."

Shelley shivered at the words.

"Whatever you want, baby," he replied, voice husky with want, but Katherine saw the doubt in his eyes. A short moment of confusion as he tried to fight the compulsion. It wouldn't be enough. He'd fail; she'd win. Katherine knew she was better than most vampires at controlling humans, even the strong of will.

She watched his head bow, his bare neck a work of art as he craned it forward, burying his face in the woman's crotch. She was shaved clean, giving Katherine a decent view of his tongue darting out to meet the woman's slit. He went to work with gusto, pushing himself against her core as if he were starving for a taste.

Katherine held tightly to the woman, feeling her heart beat begin to race, snorting at her short, pitched cries as her pleasure built up.

What the vampire wasn't expecting was to feel a finger against her panties, pushing the lace aside. She hadn't ordered Dean to reach beneath the woman, but he'd done so of his own will. Katherine moaned softly into the side of the woman's neck as he slipped two fingers inside, angling them toward her stomach in time with each lick he delivered Shelley.

"Good boy," she breathed, eyes half mast and a smirk on her face. "You make a good pet, Dean. But then, I pegged you for the obedient type, like all little soldiers should be."

His response was a third finger pushed into her tight cunt. Shelley cried out, as if she had been on the receiving end, and something about the other woman's presence annoyed the vampire. Katherine had wanted to make this last, to draw out the punishment, for Dean's sake alone, but now she wanted nothing more than to move on past it. There were so many things she wanted to do with him, and so little time to do it. This pathetic bag of blood between them wasn't worth it.

Fangs slid down past her lips, and Katherine growled, digging them into Shelley's neck. The woman bucked, trying to struggle, but Katherine's grip was iron. Blood filled her throat in a mad rush, flowing out too quickly from the orgasm the woman was still riding. Katherine continued to swallow, one full gulp after another, darkened eyes steady as she stared down between the woman's breasts, watching Dean continue to suckle her swollen clit.

Shelley was dead in her arm, already growing cool from her lack of blood, but he continued to work a few minutes more until Katherine squeezed against his fingers, body trembling with a silent mount as he pushed into her again.

She threw her head back, laughing as her body quaked with pleasure beneath the corpse. A long, satisfied sigh left her lips.

"Dean-o, I think she's done," she said, still chuckling.

He'd pulled away, was sitting on the floor and staring somberly at the carpet, when Katherine finally cooled down enough to look his way. His face was sheet white, his freckles bright against his cheeks and nose, confusion in his wide, glassy green eyes. His cock was pressing hard against the inside of his jeans.

And he was afraid. She could almost smell the fear beneath his arousal.

Katherine pushed the woman off onto the other side of the sofa, letting her lay sprawled, half dressed, mouth slack. She hadn't planned to stop here, not yet. There were plenty of more things she could have had Dean do to cold ol' Shelley, but Katherine couldn't bring herself to it, not after looking into his begging eyes.

"I don't…I don't know why I…" He let out a panicked breath. "She's-"

" _She's asleep_ ," Katherine said, as soon as she caught Dean's eye. And she watched the relief wash over him as the compulsion went to work. " _Go take a shower…But don't touch yourself_."

* * *

She watched him from the doorway.

He'd only pulled the translucent curtain half closed, and water was splattering out onto the tiles, but he didn't seem to notice. Dean's eyes were closed, his head tilted forward as the showerhead pounded his neck and back with fat, stinging droplets. His hair was darker wet, and his pouted lips redder. Water spilled over him, running down the length of his body and into the tub. He was leaner than he looked when he was wearing all those layers, and smoother.

Young and fresh, but not untouched.

Katherine studied the small scars crossing his body. One on his thigh, another, still purple and puckered, on his lower abdomen, a few age-whitened claw stripes over one upper arm. Some were old, some newer, none of them hers, thanks to the blood she'd fed him.

He shivered, and she noticed the lack of steam in the room. The water was cold, but his cock was still stiff and ruddy between his legs, if no longer standing in salute. Katherine grinned at that, then stepped inside, the small cloth bag at her side swinging.

"Turn on the hot water," she said. He shot her a look, surprised by her presence, but didn't question her, simply turning the other knob.

She could feel the heat already, rolling out from behind the curtain. Katherine sat the bag on the toilet lid, looking down into it in thought. Lonely Shelley, it seemed, enjoyed a bit of stimulation on a regular basis. It hadn't taken Katherine but a few minutes to find what she'd been looking for, toys for her toy. Shelley had a rather nice collection, including a few items Katherine hadn't seen before. It still amazed the vampire that such things existed, so much technology put into such a simple act. But still, the concept remained the same as it had in her time. Katherine ignored most of the objects, going for something a bit more basic.

The dildo was a decent size, about eight inches, curved, and an unnatural shade of pink. It had a wide suction cup at its base. She held it between two hands, as if it were heavy, and stood up straight again, head tilted as she studied the oval bathtub. She pushed the curtain all the way back and then suctioned the plastic cock to the bottom of the tub.

Dean stood under the hot water, skin flushed as he watched her. When Katherine reached back into the bag and pulled out the lubricant, he cocked one brow. She ignored him, pouring some of the oil down the length of the dildo, then tossed it aside. Slowly, she let Shelley's robe drop from her shoulders and then began to unlace her corset. His eyes stayed glued to her body, taking in every inch.

Naked, she stepped into the shower with Dean, letting the scalding water soak into her hair. Dean reached out, running his hands down over the curves of her body, then bringing them back up to cup her breasts and thumb the peaks. He kissed her shoulder tenderly.

Katherine pinched his chin between two fingers, her voice almost drowned by the sound of the shower. "I want you to fuck yourself, Dean."

She felt him freeze, his hands hovering just over her skin, and she smiled darkly. " _I want you to lower yourself onto that cock while I'm watching_."

"Kat," he begged, swallowing hard, but he was already stepping back, trying to find a way to squat down in the meager space. He finally slipped onto his knees in front of the dildo, reaching back to hold it up. "I don't want to," he said, quietly. "Don't ask me to do this."

"You want to do anything I say," Katherine reminded.

He nodded, looking up at her with wide eyes. "I do. Anything you want."

Katherine stared down at him, watching as he slowly pushed himself up, one arm held behind him awkwardly as he lowered himself back down.

He winced, plain flashing across his eyes as its blunt round head breached. Still, his eyes stayed up, glued to her smiling face. She hadn't ordered him to finger himself, to loosen up that tight little hole, and she imagined how much that sudden intrusion must have burned. Katherine knew the feeling of an unwanted invasion, of pain where there should be pleasure. Of the shame that followed.

She could see all of it on his face as his cheeks reddened, his legs trembled with the effort to hold himself up.

Katherine reached out, her hands spread onto his shoulders, and pushed him further down the length of the shaft. He whimpered, rolling his head to the side to press his brow onto her forearm. Seeking comfort. But he didn't stop. Once he was down, he lifted himself back up, and then eased down again, finding a slow, shaky rhythm. After a minute he freed his arms, reaching up to hold on to her hips for support, his face pressed against her thigh to stifle his moans as he continued to fuck himself. His hips rolled with the movement as he sought out a spot deep inside, quickening his pace.

"That's it, Dean," she said, running her fingers through his slick hair. "You like it, don't you? The pain, the control."

She'd ordered him not to touch himself, and he hadn't, but she could feel his fingers tightening on her, eager to move. It would have hurt if she were a human.

Katherine pushed him off of her enough for her to turn around and put her back to him. Then she dropped down onto her knees, pushing the crack of her ass against his strained cock. She lifted herself, letting his hardness press against her core. She could feel his pre-cum leaking out against her slick folds.

"Don't come until I say you can," she said, not bothering to make it an order. Dean wouldn't disobey, not now.

Without another word, she lowered herself, feeling his dick find her heat. She was wet and took him greedily, filling up on his thick, straining erection. Dean gripped onto her hips again, pumping his cock into her body in short, jerky movements. She didn't have to look behind her to know the dildo was still in his ass, that every time he drew out of her, he let a cock thrust deeper into himself.

He groaned into her hair. It could have been agony. It all sounded just the same. Katherine moaned when she heard the sound, letting her fingers slide over her clit. But she barely needed the extra touch. Dean's speed picked back up, and he pounded into her mercilessly, the sound of skin slapping skin becoming so loud that it covered up all the rest.

"Bite me, Dean," she cried out. "Bite me until I bleed."

The lips pressed to her shoulder opened, teeth nipping at her smooth skin, sucking it to bring the blood to surface. Then she felt it, the break as his flat, human teeth tore the flesh. Blood slid down, tickling her collar bone, and his hand moved up to meet it, rubbing the red mess over her breasts before it could be washed away.

Katherine came with a wet rush down her thighs, dripping into the stream of shower water between them, and he continued to move behind her, his breathing shallow with the effort.

"Come for me, Dean."

He must have heard her, because he grunted her name in reply, and she could feel herself filling up with his cum as he forced another eager pump into her body.

Katherine pulled up off of him, sliding against the slick tub until she was sideways, her legs tangling around his hip, a short, breathy laugh on her lips and on his as she led him into a kiss. His cum was hot, running over her skin as it leaked out of her. She wanted to tell him to clean up his mess with that perfect tongue of his...

She could see it, the minute the sun went down. Even though the small room was windowless, the moment was marked by the expression on his face. Dean pushed back, the toy rolling out from under him, his eyes wide, dazed as he glanced between it and Katherine's sated, easy grin. He reached up, wiping her blood off his chin. The memories seemed to leave him stunned, livid to the point of shaking, and his eyes wet with emotion.

Finally, he let out a broken breath, jaw clenched in anger. "What did you do to me?"

"Me?" she asked, smirking. She held the slick dildo up with two fingers, as if examining it. "I'm fairly certain you did it to yourself, and you enjoyed it, too. You're quite the little cock slut."

"Fuck you."

But he didn't finish his thought, instead scrambling back up onto his knees and pulling his arm back. Katherine caught his fist before it could land its blow. She dropped the toy and grabbed his head, slamming it against the faucet before he'd even realized she'd moved. He went limp in the bottom of the tub, laying across her lap, a bright red mark above his eye.

"Oh, Dean. You don't give up easy, do you?" Katherine stared down at him, just the tiniest bit disappointed that he was still breathing. An accident could have made things interesting. "Still might," she reminded herself.

* * *

When he woke the first time, she was driving his baby, and he was a tad upset. Katherine smiled to herself. Despite his concussion, he seemed to be able to come up with some very interesting words for what she was. Nothing she hadn't heard before, but still, points for passion. Then, as punishment, she'd made him talk about his family until he passed out.

"You said you'd leave them out of this," Dean snapped, tugging at the ropes holding his arms above him. "You said so long as I let you do whatever you wanted to me, you wouldn't ask about them."

He was still disoriented. Katherine could see it in the way he narrowed his eyes at the darkness, trying to figure out where he was. He hadn't woken when she'd hauled him out of the car, back into the no-longer-haunted house where she'd caught him. It was still dark, would be for a few more hours, and his back was to the bedroom where she'd kept him. She'd made good use of the support beam dividing off the old dining room, finding a proper hook for his bound hands near the ceiling.

She stood back to admire her work. The moonlight filtered in through the dusty curtains, casting their bodies aglow. Dean was lovely lined in pale light, too lovely to be a hunter. Or, at least, one of the human variety.

"Well, for starters, I'm a vampire. We lie on occasion," she replied, then gave his naked body a lingering glance up and down, nibbling her bottom lip. "And of course, you didn't actually _let_ me do anything to you, Dean. I had to persuade you. Unless you're confessing that you defiled a corpse of your own free will…" She leaned in. "You can tell me the truth, lover. You enjoyed it, didn't you? You liked tasting her life leave her."

Dean opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. His voice was low when it returned. "You got what you wanted from me. You made me do…what you wanted me to do. Just finish this already."

"Not yet." She tapped his chest with one finger. "Who's to say you don't have a few drops of me still inside you? If I snap your neck now, you might get back up again." She narrowed her eyes at him, a teasing tone to her voice. "But you know what, Dean? I'm starting not to hate that idea."

He glared at her. "I'd fuckin' kill myself before becoming like you."

"Maybe." She pretended to dust something off the sleeve of her jacket, shrugging casually. "Maybe not, if you had something to live for _. Someone_ to live for." Her dark eyes darted up. "Like that baby brother of yours. Sammy. What if we take a trip to…where was it you said he was? Stanford? Why don't we pick him up. We could have a _real_ good time, the three of us. We could paint the town red." Her nose wrinkled with delight at the idea. "You'd love the taste of a life in your mouth, Dean. I can tell. You've got a Ripper inside you, and you don't even know it. Bet Sammy does, too."

Dean swallowed hard. "Don't…Don't bring him into this."

Katherine lifted one hand, running it down his body, slowly lowering herself down onto her knees in front of him and spreading his legs apart. "I think I will," she said, her tickling words planted against his inner thigh. "I think I want the pair of you. Two Winchesters for the price of one."

Her fangs slid down into skin, and she felt him struggle to push her off. Her teeth only dug in deeper, filling her mouth with his hot blood.

"Not Sam… _Please_. Not my brother."

There was something in his voice, some desperation that made her meal not taste quite as sweet. Katherine pulled off of him before she'd swallowed a second mouthful, her blackened eyes watching the stream of blood run down his leg. She licked the mark there, then stood up straight.

"I didn't take you for the begging type. I'd say it's a turn-off, but it's not."

Despite the angry scowl on his face, a tear track ran down his cheek. Katherine leaned in close, kissing it away. "Fine," she breathed, into his ear. "Fine, Dean. I won't hurt your brother."

She could feel his body lose its tenseness, hear his heartbeat slow, ever so slightly. Though, that might have been due to the blood leaking out of his leg. He let his head hang forward, onto her neck, his breathe heating her damp hair.

Then she heard it, the sound of a gun being loaded, then the creak of a footstep on a plank of wood. It wasn't close. It had come from just outside, on the front porch. Deep down, a part of her had expected it sooner.

"Sounds like we have a party crasher." She pushed against Dean, running her fingers over his head, something close to affection in her voice when she spoke again. "Don't look so glum, lover. All good things…"

She yanked at his short hair, pulling him back so that she could lock eyes with him. Her muscles tightened, ready to deliver the lightning fast move that would leave his head on the floor. But she hesitated, changing her mind. Because once a toy was broken, it was gone forever. Katherine wasn't quite ready to throw him away.

And maybe, one day soon, if all went as planned, she wouldn't be running anymore. She might want another pair of brothers then. She might want an angry, lonely toy to add to her collection.

" _Forget me,"_ she whispered _. "Forget what I did to you. Forget you even know vampires exist. The last thing you're going to remember is hunting the ghost. Everything between then and now is a blur_."

She could smell the gunpowder and whiskey on him through the crack in the front door. Katherine moved too quickly for Dean's eyes to track, hitting the door with enough force to blast it off its hinges and toss back the man standing on the other side. She hissed, fangs lowered, at John Winchester, stepping out onto the front porch to greet him.

Sprawled out on the wooden planks, he moved fast, firing the shotgun as he got to his feet. She grunted at the pellets hit, knocking her a few paces back, but only smiled in returned, letting him get a good look at teeth.

"That won't work on me, Johnny," she noted.

If he was surprised, it didn't show in his hard gaze. He pulled up a shattered fragment off the door, the sharp end of the improvised stake pointed in her direction. "No, but this will."

She tutted, giving him a chiding half-smile. "So, you know what I am…Funny. Your son didn't. You _are_ here for your son, right? Or is this just a happy coincidence?"

His eyes stayed on her, but she saw his body lean, instinctively, toward the open door frame.

"That's right," Katherine said. "Dean's inside. He's bleeding, heavily too. I might have nicked a something important when I had my last snack. He's tasty, that one, and I get so eager when they're all helpless and begging for mercy..."

"You're done."

Katherine wasn't often taken aback by a human's threats, but the tone of John's voice wiped the smirk off her face.

"Do you understand me?" he asked, his voice just as cold when it returned. "You're finished here. Your life ends tonight."

"Big talk. But we both know you came here expecting a ghost. You're unprepared for this, and I'm going to walk away without so much as a splinter." Katherine sauntered up to him, daring him to make a move with the stake. "But we can take this up another time, if you'd like. Dean knows who I am and how to find me…Well, I guess I should say he _did_ know. We had a nice chat that remedied that, but you're the famous John Winchester. You could probably break my compulsion, if you really wanted to…" She cocked her head. "But then, if you do that, your baby boy remembers all the fun adult games we played together…Plus all the naughty thing I made him do to himself."

There was a flicker in his eyes, his face bloodless as her words sunk in. "What did you do to Dean?" John growled.

"You'll have to find out. Or not. It's your call." She paused. "I guess the better question is, can Dean handle finding out what I did to him? I've heard you're an obsessive bastard… But, really, what's more important to you? Hunting me or protecting your son?"

Katherine was gone before he could blink. She circled the edge of the woods in a second's span, finding a spot to watch him stare after her, his weapon aimed but pointless. He took a few deep, trembling breaths before stepping into the house. She watched a moment longer, almost wishing she could be inside, could watch the reunion, see the look on the hunter's face when he found his son, naked and helpless, and his imagination went to work.

This was a better ending that simply killing the both of them, she told herself.

"Hope I see you again, Dean," she said, a wicked twinkle in her eyes, and disappeared into the dark woods. She had other playthings to check on, ones she'd left behind long ago.


End file.
